


Unrequited Love

by Ozdiva



Category: Anne of Green Gables - L. M. Montgomery
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-04-10
Updated: 2018-08-11
Packaged: 2019-04-21 00:43:58
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 6
Words: 6,855
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14273229
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ozdiva/pseuds/Ozdiva
Summary: The story of why Marilla Cuthbert and John Blythe did not get married. This will be a series of non-linear stories exploring their relationship.





	1. Chapter 1

Twirling

Dizzy

Breathless

Her nut-brown hair, loosely tied with a pretty blue ribbon was sailing out over her shoulders; her pink dress was likewise whirling in circles. She felt lighter than air; her feet were tripping over themselves in an effort to go faster faster faster. His big brown hands encircled her slim waist, saving her from falling. They were dancing, dancing to the lively music. She could see his laughing eyes as he twirled with her. Oh it was divine. There were masses of people around them all dancing, all laughing. He was speaking to her, saying something funny. His head dipped down to hers, his lips were just in reach, and she leant up to him…

But it was fading, fading, fading. Nooooo no no no no oh NO! 

“Dammit”. She never swore, but she couldn’t help herself. She clutched at the dream, willing it to return, trying to get back to that space, that time, that moment. She could almost hear the music, the feel of his hands, the breathlessness, and the touch of his lips. But it was tantalisingly just out of reach. 

She’d had this dream several times over the years. It was a mixed blessing. The memory of it sustained her throughout her drab days; but it brought to mind the desolation of a missed opportunity. Now she was so brittle, forgetting him was a survival mechanism. She packed his letters away, in a box far up the top and back of her closet and in the very back of her mind, too. It didn’t help to think of him too much as she went about her daily chores. 

On this occasion she found herself thinking about their relationship. When had she first met John Blythe? She honestly couldn’t remember; he was just always around. Their farms were located near each other; their parents were neighbours and friends. John was a couple of years older. At first he was just an annoying boy, a friend of Matthew’s. Someone she, as a young girl, found infuriating. Boys were irritating, best avoided. 

Later as she matured, she was drawn to his gentle eyes, his sense of humour and his strong muscled body. They found they had a love of nature in common. They started walking to school together. He would wait for her at the gate to the Cuthbert farm, even though it meant doubling back at the beginning of his journey. In the classroom she sat across the aisle from him. Matthew had left school earlier, not having much aptitude for it. He preferred to spend his time with his father tending to the Cuthbert farm. 

Neither of them liked school all that much. They were fine enough scholars, but the opportunity to take their education any further was never a factor. John had a farm to manage and Marilla would be a housewife. That was the natural order of things.


	2. Thunder and Lightning

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Marilla is taken ill.

Her head felt like it was being compressed between two bricks while someone was stabbing her right eye with a knitting needle. Even with her eyes closed she could see shooting lights. She cried out in agony and suddenly felt nauseated. She fumbled for the basin on her bedside table but missed it and vomited in her bed. Too ill to care, she fell back down crying out for her mama.  
Constance Cuthbert heard cries coming from Marilla’s bedroom and lit her candle so she could investigate. A terrible sight awaited her. A groaning Marilla was curled into a foetal ball amidst vomit-streaked sheets. Constance rushed over, calling out to Mr Cuthbert, “David come quickly! Marilla’s ill!”

She asked Marilla what the matter was. Marilla winced at the light of the candle. She told her mama that she thought she was dying; her head hurt terribly and that she was sorry about the sheets. Or at least that was her intent. What Marilla actually said was incoherent gibberish. Constance looked in terror at David.

“Fetch Dr McBain’ she commanded. Without a sound he disappeared out into the night; quickly saddled his horse and galloped down the road to town.

Constance rushed to the linen cupboard, and pulled out sheets. She stripped and changed the bed. Wetting a towel she bathed Marilla and changed her nightgown. All the while murmuring comforting words to her, unaware of how much Marilla could understand. Hoping that at least the intent, if not the meaning was getting through.

Marilla was sick again. Constance caught it in the bowl this time. Constance could see that even the dim candle light was causing her pain so she took it out of the room so that only the dimmest of light could be seen, just barely enough to see Marilla’s outline. She climbed into the bed the better to comfort her, but Marilla winced at her touch.

Matthew appeared looking concerned. ‘Marilla is ill Matthew’, said Constance. “Is there anything I can do?” he asked. 

“Fetch me some more water please. Your father has gone to fetch the Doctor, you’ll have to manage the stock in the morning.’ Matthew went back to bed for a while, hoping Marilla would be all right. She’d had a tough few weeks. She’d argued with John he knew and was miserable.

After what seemed an interminable time; during which Marilla was sick a few more times; David returned with Dr McBain in tow. They entered the room; shocked to see the state Marilla was in. She was still moaning. Dr McBain asked her where the pain was, but once again her reply was incoherent. Constance told him about her vomiting, light and touch sensitivity. Upon examining her, Dr McBain told them that while he could treat a normal headache with powders, this was a migraine or sick headache and she’d just bring up anything he gave her. Marilla was moaning in agony as he spoke to them. 

A day passed. The men had to fend for themselves at meal times; Constance was far too busy nursing Marilla to cook. Marilla was slowly improving. Her head had improved, but she was still light sensitive. They kept the blinds closed to keep the room as dark as possible. She was able to make herself understood again, but she was still weak.

Constance bought a bowl of gruel up to her room; it was considered just the thing for a recovering digestive system. Marilla attempted to hold it and brought the spoon up to her mouth, it was no good; she was too shaky. Constance gently took hold of the spoon and just like when Marilla was a baby, proceeded to feed her. Marilla felt pathetic, but she was hungry and unable to manage it herself; and the gruel tasted delicious, it was just what she needed. 

Dr McBain returned; he explained to her what had occurred and broke the news that she may suffer with them all her life. That she would learn the warning signs. Marilla told Dr McBain that she had also experienced flashing lights and visual disturbances. He said they were called auras. Dr McBain asked if anything had changed in her life recently and Marilla replied that she had recently argued with John Blythe.

Constance sat on the end of her bed after the doctor had left. “You gave us quite a scare sweetheart”. 

“It was frightening Mama, I thought I was going to die.”

Constance squeezed her hand, “It’s all over for now darling. We’ll keep an eye out for the warning signs next time”. She smiled at Marilla, but she was concerned that Marilla would continue to suffer with debilitating pain throughout her life.

As Marilla lay in bed recovering she had ample time to think of John. She hoped that their recent spat would be short lived. Maybe he would hear that she’d been ill and would visit. She’d like that. She lay in bed imagining their next conversation.

There was a knock at the front door and Marilla heard her mama talking to someone. Maybe it was John? She smoothed her hair and sat up straighter in bed. Her mama led someone up the stairs. Her heart leapt a little. Constance said “Marilla you have a visitor.” It was Rachel. Marilla was slightly disappointed but after all it was nice to see her good friend.

“Good afternoon Marilla” said Rachel. “Are you feeling better? What happened?” 

“Oh it was terrible’ said Marilla, “I thought my head was going to explode. Mama was wonderful Rachel, even when I made such a mess in the bed.” Rachel was astounded; Mrs Cuthbert had a reputation for being rather stern. “But I’m getting better now. What have I missed?”

Rachel was a font of news. She told Marilla how Jane Pye had slighted Jane Boulter, then launched into long and involved discussion of Avonlea politics. Trust Rachel to know what everyone was up to. It was so lovely to feel connected with the coming and goings of Avonlea.

Have you seen John? inquired Rachel. 

“No” said Marilla. “Not since our argument.” She did feel remorseful about that. “I thought you might be him when you arrived” she confessed. 

“He’ll be back, he adores you” Rachel replied in a conciliatory tone. 

“Tell me about Thomas, have you seen him lately?” deflected Marilla.

“Oh yes, I bumped into him at church, he’s taking me out for a drive next weekend, he’s so handsome.”

Constance bought the girls up a glass of her raspberry cordial. She didn’t usually let Marilla drink it, except on special occasions but felt Marilla had had a rather torrid ordeal and needed a bit of spoiling. It was good to hear Marilla giggling with Rachel as she walked up the stairs. Both girls thanked her; rather amazed at the transformation. Mrs Cuthbert seemed to have mellowed. The cordial was delicious. Rachel had heard of the famous Cuthbert raspberry cordial, but never actually tasted it.

They chatted for a while longer until Mrs Cuthbert returned to say that Marilla needed to rest. Rachel pulled out a novel that she had read recently and gave it to Marilla to read while she recovered. She took her leave and promised to come back soon. Marilla settled back against her pillows. It had been nice to see Rachel and catch up on all the local news, but she was rather weary. She hoped John would visit soon.

 

Anne of Green Gables Chapter XI The next morning warnings of a sick headache prevented Marilla from going to Sunday-school with Anne.


	3. A Smudge of Flour

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> John and Marilla go for a walk, their afternoon doesn't go as expected.

Marilla had just popped her ginger snaps into the oven. The kitchen smelt of ginger and sugar. Feeling the satisfaction of a job well done she glanced over to her mother sewing by the window. “These shouldn’t take too long. I’ll just clean up.” Just then there was a knock at the door. “Who could that be, at this hour?” enquired Constance.

Marilla strode over to the door. She opened it and found herself staring into John Blythe’s deep dark eyes. She melted a little and then straightened up. “Good afternoon John, how nice to see you.”

Judging by the smudge of flour on her cheek and the gingery aroma emanating from the kitchen, he determined that she’d just been baking. He almost told her about the smudge but decided against it. She looked even more fetching with the flour accentuating her high cheekbone. He winked at Mrs Cuthbert, who grinned back, assuring him with her eyes that she would keep quiet.

“I was wondering if you’d like to come out for a walk this afternoon?” 

“May we Mama?” Marilla requested. “Perhaps you can keep an eye on my snaps?”

“Of course, be off with you” said a delighted Constance. It was always lovely to see these two together. John Blythe was a lovely young man; she thought they made a smart couple. “You can have some snaps and a cup of tea when you come home.”

Marilla took off her apron and hung it on the hook behind the pantry door. “Do I look alright?” She asked Constance. 

“You look lovely darling, enjoy yourself.” 

Marilla turned to John and said, “Right let’s go.”

With the beautiful Marilla by his side John felt like the luckiest chap on Prince Edward Island. She was so bright and bubbly; her brown hair sparkled in the sun’s rays. They sauntered along the road with no particular destination in mind, just enjoying each other’s company. 

“Where shall we go?” 

“Let’s go to The Avenue” said Marilla, “I always love it at this time of year.”

It had been a long winter, but spring was springing in all its glory. Crocus, bluebells and snowdrops were blossoming in abundance creating a colourful carpet. The blossom from the apple trees on The Avenue was blowing all around like snowflakes. They reminded John of the flour on her cheek. The perfume from the blossoms was overpowering and delicious. It was a day just made for lovers. 

John placed his hands on Marilla’s thin waist and swung her around and onto a convenient tree stump. She laughed a little breathlessly. He sat down at her feet. “What have you been up to Mar?”

“Oh, you know the usual, farming, church, catching up with Rachel. She fills me in on all the gossip. What about you?”

“Pretty much the same, apart from the Rachel bit.” John replied with a grin. Rachel was a well-known town gossip. Nothing got past her, and she delighted in sharing her knowledge with anyone who would listen. Marilla was quieter, it seemed quite strange to John that they were such good friends; they always seemed so dissimilar. 

John had a notion of another place he could share with nature loving Marilla. “Have you heard the story of poor Hester Gray?” He asked her. 

“Yes, didn’t she die in her beautiful garden a year or so ago?” replied Marilla. “I wonder if anything’s left of it?” 

“It was supposed to be gorgeous”, said John. “It’s not that far, shall we go?” 

“How about we take a picnic there another day” said Marilla. “It’ll be dusk soon. In fact, it seems to be getting dark now.” 

It was getting dark, not because the sun was going down, but rather as a result of some big black clouds approaching from the southwest. “Oh no, I think we’re going to get wet” cried John as he felt the first drops of rain. “Let’s run home.”

They fled through the increasingly large raindrops, getting drenched as they ran. Green Gables was not far now. They ran straight onto the veranda, pleased to be under cover at last. Constance looked askance at the sopping wet couple when they opened the door to the sweet-smelling kitchen. “You two! I’ll fetch you both towels, don’t come in and drip all over this clean floor.” 

Constance brought them both a cup of hot tea; which they received gratefully. She placed a plate of Marilla’s ginger snaps between them, so they could enjoy them as they dripped on the veranda. John was sad to see that rain had washed the smudge of flour off Marilla’s cheek. They watched as the rain continued to teem down, making a terrible din on the roof. It was raining so hard; they could barely hear themselves speak. 

It was starting to get cold and their clothes were still sopping. Marilla’s clothes were dripping a little less so she excused herself and ran upstairs to get changed. Constance fetched some dry clothes of Matthew’s for John to borrow and led him into Matthew’s bedroom to get changed. Matthew was slightly shorter than John, but they fit after a fashion. They were warm and dry, and John was thankful for that. 

Once both of them were in warmer clothes, they sat down at the kitchen table. There wasn’t any point in John going home until the storm abated. He hoped his parents wouldn’t be too worried. Marilla poured them both another cup of tea. David and Matthew sprinted in from the barn; it was their teatime. Constance handed them a towel to dry their wet hair too. Matthew grinned at the sight of the taller boy wearing his clothes. “They suit you”; he said laughing.

They all sat around the kitchen table enjoying the sound of the rain, the hot tea and enjoying the ginger snaps that Marilla had fortuitously baked. It wasn’t quite the afternoon Marilla and John had envisioned, but it was enjoyable all the same.


	4. First Kiss

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> John and Marilla go to a dance

Rachel and Marilla were in Rachel’s room getting ready for the dance that night. Her room was bigger than Marilla’s giving them more space to try on different gowns. Admittedly Rachel had more choice. Marilla didn’t own many pretty dresses. Her family wasn’t that well off. But it was fun to watch Rachel try and then reject dress after dress. They giggled as they compared the relative merits of each one. Rachel did Marilla’s hair, fastening it up in a loose bun, and then letting it fall down, deciding which hair-do was the most fetching. Eventually they decided that it was best to leave it out. It was such lovely long brown hair; it seemed a pity to hide it away. Rachel for her part decided she liked hers up. Eventually they were both ready for the boys. Marilla was wearing her favourite light pink dress and Rachel her powder blue one. 

The boys, John and Thomas were due to pick them up in Thomas’ carriage at 7pm, they were all travelling to the dance at the church hall together. The girls were waiting in the parlour. Mrs Potter, Rachel’s mother had prepared a light supper for the girls to fortify themselves before dancing. 

The carriage duly arrived. The boys knocked on the door and were let in. They nervously came into the house and greeted the Potters. “Girls, Thomas and John are here” called Mrs Potter. Rachel and Marilla looked charming as they came down the stairs. The boys were somewhat tongue-tied at the sight of them both. 

“Good e-evening Mar” stammered John. “I have a present for you, maybe you’ll wear it tonight.” He took out a small package and handed it to her. She unwrapped it and found a pretty light blue ribbon. It would go perfectly with her pink dress. “May I?” he asked. 

“Of course.” She turned around and he loosely tied it around the top of her hair. “Oh, it’s beautiful Marilla,” gasped Rachel. 

She looked at Thomas expectantly. “Oh yes, yes, here is your present too” said Thomas. He handed her a package. She unwrapped it and inside was another ribbon, this time a light green one. He fastened it in her hair. The girls were very pleased with their beautiful garlands. Mrs Potter thought they looked very fine.   
“Well, be off with you, or the dance will be over before you get there.” She shooed them out the door.

The boys helped the girls into the carriage and they set off for the dance hall. When they arrived, the dance was in full swing. The music carried out into the night; in fact, they heard the party well before they saw it. Thomas parked the carriage and they got out and stood in front of the hall. “We best go in, I suppose” said John. They took a collective breath before entering the noisy hall. 

Her nut-brown hair, loosely tied with his pretty blue ribbon, was sailing out over her shoulders; her pink dress was likewise whirling in circles. She felt lighter than air; her feet were tripping over themselves in an effort to go faster faster, faster. His big brown hands were around her slim waist, saving her from falling. They were dancing, dancing to the lively music. She could see his laughing eyes as he twirled with her. Oh, it was divine. There were masses of people around them, all dancing; all laughing. He was speaking to her, saying something funny. His head dipped down to hers, his lips were just in reach and she leant up to him. She could feel his warm lips on hers as they kissed. 

All of a sudden, they stopped dancing, oblivious to the music and the crowd; the kiss deepened. Time seemed to stop. It was just the two of them lost in the throng. She had never been kissed before, had only imagined what it felt like. She felt somewhat weak at the knees. He broke off and reminded her to breath otherwise she might faint. She took a deep lungful of air and did feel better almost immediately. Breathing was useful if you didn’t want to make a scene at a dance, it transpired. 

Quite a few of their peers had witnessed their kiss; shy Marilla Cuthbert kissing John Blythe. What was the world coming to? Rachel was delighted; she thought they were a great match. She had always liked John Blythe herself, but now that she was courting Thomas Lynde, she was thrilled that Marilla had a man of her own. It would be so much fun to court the boys together, perhaps they would have a double wedding? It was fun to imagine. 

John led Marilla out of the crush. He found a chair for her to sit on and went to find some refreshments. Marilla couldn’t stop grinning. What a lovely night it was turning into. She had been slightly apprehensive about the dance. It was her first with a boy, but it had been so much fun even before they kissed. That, of course, was the icing on the cake. She wanted to kiss him some more. She thought it would be delightful to kiss him everywhere, well not everywhere just yet; she blushed as she thought about it. But at least up and down his face and neck and arms and legs … oh there she was going off on flights of fancy again. Best come back to earth. John reappeared with a glass of punch. He saw her blushing on the chair 

“Penny for your thoughts?” 

She grinned at him. “I need more than a penny before I’ll share these thoughts with you.” She flirted. 

Goodness, who was this girl? thought John. I’ve never seen her quite like this. 

“I was just thinking about what a lovely time I’m having,” she partially confessed. 

Rachel and Thomas burst out of the crush and Rachel sat next to Marilla as Thomas went off to find a cool drink for them both. 

“Marilla Cuthbert! Was that you I saw kissing John Blythe?” burst out Rachel. 

Marilla giggled, “Who else did you think it could be?” 

“What was it like?” 

“It was divine, though I forgot to breath and got a bit light headed.” Marilla replied. “John had to remind me. Have you kissed Thomas yet?” She was sure Rachel had. 

“Oh yes, we kiss all the time. It is lovely isn’t it; I’m looking forward to the time when we can do more. But I suppose that’s a ways off yet. I’m far from ready to get married.” Rachel admitted. 

Thomas returned with the drinks. The two couples sat and chatted about who was dancing with whom and greeted a few of their friends. Jane Pye was there of course, with a new beau. “Why Marilla Cuthbert, it’s simply splendid to see you here. You’ve made your old dress look almost fashionable with that ribbon in your hair.” Jane Pye was always the queen of backhanded compliments. Thankfully she wandered off with the boy on her arm. They didn’t want to waste their fun chatting to her. 

“Care to return to the fray, Mar?” asked John. 

“Can’t wait” replied Marilla. They made their way out to the floor, he placed his hands around her waist again and they started dancing. This was the pattern of the night. They would dance, look for refreshment, kiss; and dance again. Finally, exhausted, they sat outside listening to the music within. 

“Have you had a nice time, Mar?” John asked.

“It’s been divine, John. I admit I was slightly apprehensive before I came, I don’t even really know why, it’s just this was my first dance with a boy.” 

“Boy?” said John, “I think you mean man, I am 18 after all.” 

Marilla blushed “Yes, man then. My first dance with a man.” 

“Your first kiss too?”

“Yes, my first kiss with a boy or a man.”

“Did you like it?”

“It was incredible, I didn’t want it to stop.” 

He bent over then; and kissed her again. She barely had time to catch a brief breath before he was covering her lips with his. His thumb was caressing her cheek; he could feel every fine hair on her face. She was lost again, enjoying the moment. 

Rachel and Thomas appeared and were somewhat shocked to see Marilla and John kissing again. Did they have to be so public about it? “Ahem” said Rachel. 

They parted. “Oh sorry,” said Marilla “were we upsetting you?” she teased.   
Rachel felt suddenly proprietorial, as though she had to protect Marilla from further outrage. “I think it’s time we went home.” 

“Oh, that’s a shame” said a disappointed Marilla. “I was having such a lovely time.” 

“Yes, so I gathered, but it’s getting late, our parents will expect us home.” 

Was Rachel always such a killjoy, wondered Marilla, maybe she’s a little jealous? The thought thrilled her a little, sometimes Rachel was a bit high and mighty and it felt rather exciting to make her envious for a change.

The foursome went out to find the horse and carriage. It was parked down the back, as they had been slightly late arriving. The boys helped the girls in again and the horse trotted homewards. Rachel lived nearest, so she was the first one to be dropped off. She was a little bit annoyed actually. She would have rather had the boys to herself, rather than Marilla. She chided herself; of course, it was perfectly alright for Marilla to have a bit of fun. She wasn’t envious, was she? In her heart of hearts, she had to admit that she was. She adored her Thomas, but she wasn’t quite brave enough to be so brazen in public as Marilla appeared to be. It was rather a shock when she stopped to examine her thoughts. 

Thomas dropped Marilla off next. John helped Marilla down from the carriage and they briefly kissed before Marilla let out a terrific yawn. She was tired; it had been a big night. “I better let you get to bed, I suppose” laughed John. 

“Yes, my bed is calling me,” replied Marilla. “Thank you for a delightful evening. See you soon.” 

She ran lightly into the house and turned and waved John goodbye. 

No one else was up, she was rather pleased she didn’t have to explain her night to anyone until morning. She needed some time to think through the events of the evening. It had been glorious. Her bed looked very inviting. She hurriedly changed into her nightgown. Taking off her ribbon, she tucked it under her pillow and went to sleep, hoping to dream of sweet kisses.


	5. Remorse

It had been several weeks since Marilla had seen or even heard from John Blythe. Was he never coming back? Had their last altercation broken their relationship? She was in the depths of despair. She couldn’t eat; she couldn’t sleep. She just lay in her bed and wept. Could her Bible help? She opened it looking for comfort.

He heals the brokenhearted  
And binds up their wounds.*

Not bad, but not what she wanted. 

Trust in the Lord with all your heart and lean not on your own understanding; in all your ways submit to him, and he will make your paths straight. **

No.

I call on the Lord in my distress, and he answers me.*** But he didn’t seem to be answering her now. 

No, they weren’t right. She flung the bible across her bed in disgust. Poetry then? 

If you were coming in the fall,  
I’d brush the summer by  
With half a smile and half a spurn,  
As housewives do a fly.

If I could see you in a year,  
I’d wind the months in balls,  
And put them each in separate drawers,  
Until their time befalls.

If only centuries delayed,  
I’d count them on my hand,  
Subtracting till my fingers dropped  
Into Van Diemen’s land. 

If certain, when this life was out,  
That yours and mine should be,  
I’d toss it yonder like a rind,  
And taste eternity. 

But now, all ignorant of the length  
Of time’s uncertain wing,  
It goads me, like the goblin bee,  
That will not state its sting.****

That was more satisfying, though she hoped she wouldn’t have to wait for eternity. She read through the poem a couple more times. She was ignorant of the length of her wait, but she hoped, oh how she hoped he’d come by today. 

Constance and David were worried about Marilla when she refused to leave her room. Taking a cup of tea and a raspberry tart on a plate David went up to see her, something he rarely did. He left the rearing of daughters to Constance, but Marilla was his baby and she was hurting. 

“Marilla, sweetheart, you have to eat, sit up now and have a cup of tea.” She turned her red, tear-stained eyes to her Papa, sniffling and wiping her nose on her sleeve. 

“Do you think he’ll ever come back?” she sobbed.

“I don’t know sweetheart, I hope so.” He did fervently hope John would return. Marilla was suffering so. 

“I don’t know what I’ll do without him?” She wept. David sat with her, letting her weep. Partially because weeping seemed to help, and partially because what else could he do? He wondered if Matthew knew anything more about the situation. 

When Marilla had settled down a bit and David felt he could leave her, he went to find Matthew who was forking hay in the barn. “Do you know anything about Marilla and John? Why is he behaving like this?” 

Matthew hated to be the bearer of bad tidings, but it seemed he would have to get involved. He loved his big sister. “They argued” he explained, “I don’t know what it was about, but I don’t think he’s coming back. Peter Wright told me that John is sick of Marilla’s short temper.” 

“Oh dear” said David, “Marilla can have a short temper, like her mother, but I love your Mama, despite it.” 

“Yes, well it seems it’s too much for John to bear,” explained Matthew. 

Later that night David was talking the situation over with Constance. They wanted to help Marilla, but were at a loss. They couldn’t force the Blythe boy to love her. 

The next morning Rachel Potter visited. She hadn’t seen Marilla herself for some days. They normally saw each other every day or so. She had heard about their quarrel of course. Constance opened the door and ushered her up to Marilla’s gabled room. “Oh Rachel, have you heard anything? When is he coming?” Marilla cried. 

“I don’t know.” Rachel was terribly sorry for her friend. She didn’t think he was coming back, but she didn’t want to tell her. It felt particularly uncomfortable for Rachel because she and John were having such fun courting. She hoped he would ask her to marry him one day. They had already talked about children. She wanted lots. 

Very early one morning about a week or so later Marilla woke up. It must be time to milk the cows. She had been mooning about in bed for long enough. Her family had left her to her own devices, but she supposed she couldn’t stay in bed for the rest of her life. Putting on her warm coat and boots she walked through the snow to the barn. 

She had always liked the barn. It smelt of hay, manure and animals. Pulling over the milking stool, she sat down and proceeded to milk the cow. Cows were excellent listeners, she told Daisy all her tribulations. “He’s so stubborn. It was just a little spat. He knows I wasn’t serious. He’s just being an idiot.” The cow stamped her feet just as Marilla was letting her emotions get the better of her. Her hands were expressing her anger and Daisy was telling her that she was being too rough with her teats. If she kept on like this, the cow might tip over the bucket with her hoof. 

Marilla forced her hands to relax, but she was still worked up. “I can’t believe he’s being so obstinate, he knows how much I care for him.” The cow stamped her foot again. Oh it was no good, she had to do one thing or another. Since she was here, she thought she better finish the milking in relative silence. Once finished she took the milk to the kitchen. Hopefully her Papa and Matthew would be happy that the chore had been completed, freeing them up for other tasks. 

David Cuthbert was surprised to see Marilla at the breakfast table with the bucket of milk. What had happened? Had John appeared since he had gone to bed? But no, Marilla didn’t seem exuberantly happy, but the fact that she was up and helping was a step in the right direction. 

*****

After church some months later Marilla ran into John and a girl walking together. She stopped to chat briefly because that was the adult, polite thing to do; though really all she wanted to do was run away. “Good morning, how is your mother?” she enquired. John replied that his mother was well. He introduced the girls. 

“Caroline Gray, this is my old friend Marilla Cuthbert.” He felt mixed emotions himself. He was happy to have found someone less complicated than Marilla, but he rather missed their vigorous conversations. After a brief chat John and Caroline continued down the road to the Blythe homestead. 

After checking they were out of earshot, Marilla calmed walked over to some nearby bushes and proceeded to vomit copiously.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> * Psalm 147:3  
> ** Proverbs 3:5-6  
> *** Psalm 120:1  
> **** If you were coming in the fall Emily Dickinson
> 
> Author’s note: Few of Dickinson’s poems were published in her lifetime, but the dates fit so I’m going to claim artistic license and use them anyway.


	6. The Course of True Love Never Did Run Smooth

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It’s taken me an age to decide just what went wrong with these two. I haven’t wanted to explore it, because it’s so sad. Anyway here goes…

It was a stunning summer’s day; the heat shimmered over the red roads of Prince Edward Island. There was barely a cloud in blue sky, long green grass waved in the slight breeze. In the afternoon John Blythe paid a call on Marilla Cuthbert. “Let’s go for a walk down the beach Mar, we could go for a paddle.” 

“You might be able to, I doubt I’d be allowed.” She sniffed. “It’s so unfair. I’m stuck in this hot dress with all these stupid petticoats.” She pulled at her collar ineffectually. “You boys have it so easy.”

Nevertheless, he persuaded her to come with him. He had his carriage outside and they soon made their way down to the beach. The sea sparkled in the sunlight; little white caps appeared momentarily on the tops of the waves. They wandered along just above the wave line, John took his shoes off and encouraged Marilla to do likewise. “I shouldn’t, Mama would be unimpressed, and what if I’m seen?”

“C’mon Mar, live a little. If you take them off it’ll be cooler and you can even dip your toes in the water. You’ll feel so much better.”

It was tempting. “Oh alright then.” It was delicious once she did it. The cool water on her toes and the gritty sensation of the sand were delightful. If she stood still in the water for long enough she nearly toppled over as the waves washed the sand out from under the balls of her feet. She laughed as she lost her balance. John had to hold his hand out to stop her from falling sideways. Afterwards they sat on the sand idly drawing patterns with a twig.

“I bumped into Jane Pye at the store, last week. She’s got a new beau.” 

“Do you think she’s attractive?” Marilla asked. 

“She is rather, her blue eyes and blonde hair are a stunning combination”, John was drowning in quicksand, but he failed to recognise it. 

“Oh” said Marilla, she went a bit stiff and her voice deepened. “Who else is pretty do you think?” 

John ploughed on oblivious “Mary Gillis is quite striking.” He didn’t notice her sidling away slightly. “Mind you, I think you’re quite nice too, and it’s more important to be clever … what’s happening is it time to go?” He noticed her putting her shoes back on.

“Yes, I think I’ll have to get on home.”

“Did I say something wrong?”

“No, no. I just have to, um, go home. Mama will be expecting me.” 

“Alright then.”

He escorted her back up the beach and tried to help her up into the carriage, she ignored his proffered arm.

They rode home in silence. John had no idea what he’d done. She denied he’d said anything wrong, but apparently he had. Was it what he’d said about being clever or pretty? He honestly didn’t know. Girls were so complicated.

The next week John thought he’d pay another call upon Marilla. He thought he should apologise for whatever he did wrong last week, though it would help if he knew what that was. 

It was another warm day; he thought a walk by Barry’s Pond might be nice this time. He knocked on the door and when she answered, asked if she would like to take a stroll with him. Despite still feeling annoyed about his faux pas last week, she accepted. As they walked they talked about inconsequential things and then Marilla mentioned something that Rachel had told her about Thomas. 

“Why are you such good friends with Rachel anyway Mar? She’s a terrible blabbermouth.” 

“Rachel is my best friend, John.”

“Yes, I know. I’m just not sure why, you seem so dissimilar. She’s always gossiping about this or that whilst you’re so quiet.” 

“Is that a criticism?”

“What? No, no, I’m not criticising you. You just don’t talk nonsense is all.” 

“Oh you’re just being annoying now. You think I’m ugly and stupid.” She yelled over her shoulder at him and ran off. 

“No Mar, I don’t think that...” He trailed off, as she had run off out of earshot by now. 

Marilla ran back home sobbing and ran smack into her brother Matthew. He caught her as brushed past him. “Hey Marilla what’s wrong? Did John say something to upset you?”

“It’s nothing Matthew, leave me be.”

“It doesn’t look like nothing, you’re crying.” He produced a somewhat dirty handkerchief from his pocket. It smelt of his sweat and the cows. She took it gratefully nevertheless and blew her nose. “Come into the barn, so we can talk.” She followed him into the barn and they sat on a pile of hay. “What happened?” 

“Oh, it’s just boys can be so stupid sometimes, sorry Matthew, obviously I don’t mean you.” 

He waved the slur on his gender away. “Go on.”

“He as good as told me I was ugly last week, not as attractive as Jane Pye and Mary Gillis.” 

Matthew wisely held his tongue; it was true that those two girls were among the prettiest in Avonlea. 

“Today he said I shouldn’t be friends with Rachel. How dare he presume to choose my friends, Matthew?” 

Matthew had wondered at Marilla’s friendship with Rachel himself, and she herself sometimes wondered why she maintained their association. Still he held his tongue. She didn’t need advice; she just needed someone to listen to her. Matthew hugged his sister, he adored her and he hated to see her upset, even when it sounded like she had been rather unreasonable. 

Rachel called by the next day, Marilla didn’t know how she did it, but she knew about the quarrel. Marilla couldn’t tell Rachel she was one of the topics they’d argued about, so the dispute seemed particularly trivial. 

At the store the next week Rachel bailed John up. “What’s this I hear about you and Marilla, John? She’s very upset about the hurtful things you said to her.”

“I have no idea what I said, Rachel.”

“Oh, you know, you only told her she wasn’t as attractive as most of the girls in town.”

“I said no such thing, Rachel, I couldn’t because it isn’t true, anyway even if it were, I think brains are more important than beauty any day.”

“Oh, you didn’t say that to her, did you?” 

“I … yes. Was that a bad idea?”

Rachel just shook her head at him. If that was his attitude, Marilla was better off without him. 

John sensed that he had done something unforgiveable, but he really didn’t understand what that was. He tried one more time to apologise to Marilla, but she refused to see him. He decided that if that was her attitude, she could wait all her life if she wished, there were other less haughty girls out there, girls who wouldn’t fly off the handle at one little off the cuff comment. He was done with her.

The End


End file.
